In the Dead of Night
by reniRCx
Summary: Post-war jetko, based on the assumption that Jet survived after Lake Laogai.  I totally forgot what happened in that episode, and didn't look it up until after I wrote this fic, so please bear with me.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I guess this could be considered kind of AU, because they make it pretty clear that Jet dies, but I didn't realize that until I was well into writing this fic, so a little suspension of disbelief may be necessary. Anyway, here it is. **

It had been one year. One short year since Fire Lord Ozai had been defeated and Zuko had risen to power in his place. And that one year had yielded sixteen assassination attempts.

Most were poorly planned and hardly more than an annoyance to the master swordsman and firebender. A group of former fire army generals who wanted to avenge the defeat of their leader and the professional assassin hired by an Earth Kingdom noble who apparently couldn't think of any other way to communicate his displeasure with the way Zuko had been running things had been the closest to success. Regardless, the leader of the Fire Nation slept with his swords within arms' length and a dagger under his pillow. A little paranoia never hurt anyone, and in this case it was well justified.

Tonight's assassin didn't know this, but he would never underestimate the Fire Lord's security measures. He drew his swords, taking a moment to admire the way the deadly weapons glinted in the moonlight. The nighttime attack wasn't blind tradition- no, he was too clever for that now. Firebenders were weaker at night, without their sun. And he wanted Fire Lord Zuko as weak as possible.

A nighttime attack was perhaps the only thing he'd done right last time, but he refused to make the same mistakes twice.

The assassin was ready. He had been lurking outside studying the palace security for days, and, more importantly, nights. He knew that the guards at the main door were due to be replaced any moment now, and after that, they wouldn't be found for at least two hours.

Plenty of time to get in, do what he had come to do, and get out.

The teenager waited motionlessly in the tree that had in the last few weeks become the ideal spot for him. It nearly overhung the wall that surrounded the palace, but no one appeared to worry about it as a security oversight because of the two guards at the door that faced it directly.

That was their first mistake. The assassin was over the wall and in the palace courtyard in a flash, and the two guards' throats were slashed before they could sound an alarm or even utter a sound. A flawless performance on the assassin's part, but this part of the plan had never struck him as particularly unachievable.

The next phrase would be trickier. He knew that guards patrolled the inside of the palace randomly, so there was no way of knowing how many he'd run into on the way to the room that housed the traitorous abomination that was the Fire Lord.

But he was confident that he could kill them all.

He only encountered one- laughable security. Hiding the body in a small storage room under a tarp, he peeked around the corner of the last corridor.

A single guard stood vigil outside the Fire Lord's door. He carried a sword, and was probably very good with it. But the assassin never gave him a chance to even draw it. He didn't know what hit him.

This was the moment. The moment he had been waiting for for the last year, at least. Maybe his whole life. He was going to kill the Fire Lord. His life's quest to unbalance the Fire Nation wouldn't be for naught.

The room was dimly lit by candles, and vividly decorated with Fire Nation paraphernalia. That red flag, the symbol that had always reminded him of a teardrop…if there was time, he would rip every bit of it to pieces. _There will be even more red on these walls after I'm through. _

But time was already running out. The assassin crept toward the Fire Lord's bed.

**A/N: From the description, it's probably obvious who he is…but I liked making it suspenseful. More coming soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand here it is. Part two, everybody. Actual Jetko ensues near the end. **

Zuko was awake and alert the second the door opened. True, it was nearly silent, but experience that fed paranoia had to be given credit. Moving his hand to close around his dagger was nothing more than a reflex, and in the space of a few seconds had thrown it in the direction of the door.

The assassin was focused on the figure that still appeared to be sleeping, and didn't even see the small, lethal metal object coming until it was nearly too late. As it was, he was barely able to evade it, and it grazed his arm before burying itself in the wall.

Most people would have cried out, but he was used to pain. He didn't even give himself enough time to even feel it before lunging toward where the Fire Lord was already springing out of the red-sheathed bed.

But the Fire Lord, as he'd learned long ago, was a formidable fighter as well. His adversary was out of bed and holding a pair of previously well-concealed swords in a matter of seconds. He blinked in surprise when the candles that had given the room a dim, reddish glow flared and lit a slew of others, the light of the room growing considerably.

The intruder was startled by this sudden turn of events, but refused to be fazed. He had a purpose here. He leapt at the Fire Lord, who easily parried his blow, but didn't release the pressure, so their four swords remained crossed. He could beat this guy in a fair fight, but he wanted his enemy to know who his attacker was.

"So we meet again," he whispered. He was stalling, his eyes jumping around the room to gauge the territory.

Zuko's expression changed from one of confusion to one of surprise as he lifted his face toward the light. "Jet!" His expression changed again. "I thought you were dead."

"For awhile, so did I," he said. "Hello, _Lee."_

"So you've come to kill me," Zuko said, now sounding amused rather than shocked. "Not too creative of you. You're not the first one with that idea who's shown up recently."

"I will be the last," Jet threatened. _This will _not _be like last time…_

"Well? Zuko inquired. Their swords were still locked. "Come on. I'm not going to attack you because I have no real quarrel with you. On the other hand, if I simply withdraw that would be suicide. So go ahead, Jet, it's your move."

They stared at each other, surprised and secretly amused by how this was progressing. _Just like before…_ Their old swordfights (sparring on the ferry, to let off steam, to learn more about each other, to have an outlet for their skills and their frustration) had been full of talking. That had even lapsed into that final battle, their only true one, where, like always, they were evenly matched.

Jet resisted a smile, and followed Zuko's advice. Stepping back and uncrossing his swords in one move, he came in at another angle and Zuko stepped up enthusiastically to parry. "Now that's more like it!" he said.

The battle continued, and just like before, each swordsman was caught off guard by just how evenly matched they were. _Like our blades were meant to cross. _Metal met metal time and time again, neither gaining ground. Zuko idly wondered where the guards were, and with a sickly feeling wondered just how many of them Jet had killed getting in here.

Over and over, Zuko found himself reaching to firebend and stopping. He could win this fight fairly. For some odd reason, he couldn't stand the thought of cheating with Jet. Maybe he just didn't want the battle to end like that. He respected Jet's skill with the twin hook swords (as usual, this respect was proven with blow after tricky blow) and Zuko wanted to beat him fairly, as neither had been able to do in the past.

The graze on Jet's arm was seeping blood through his shirt, and Zuko attacked his weakened right side relentlessly. But Jet refused to give in. Both pairs of swords moved in tandem in what looked more like artistry than a battle to the death.

Jet's eyes were cold and focused as their swords clashed. Last time, Jet had been frustrated from his search and had just wanted to fight. Now, fighting was necessary and his movements were less erratic and more strategic, yielding more than a few close calls for Zuko.

_I will not make the same mistake twice. _Again, Jet went in for the kill. Again, Zuko parried. Their swords locked again, both swordsmen refusing to be the first to give way or break free.

"What do you _want, _Jet?" Zuko asked honestly. A silent fight between them seemed unnatural. The cross of their swords had forced their faces so close together they were nearly touching…neither could deny that they would rather if they were.

"I want you dead," he replied. Zuko felt Jet's hot breath on his face. "I want the fire nation in the hands of someone who isn't a liar, a traitor, and a coward."

"A traitor, you say?" Zuko broke free of the swordlock, spun and came back around, their swords locking again. "You want to defend the Fire Nation from me? Last I checked, you wanted me to help you fight them."

"That was a long time ago." With that, Jet shoved Zuko's swords off his, and instead of taking advantage of his opponent's off kilter balance, touched the tips of his swords to the ground in resignation.

"It certainly was," Zuko replied, guardedly and a little perplexed by Jet's actions. He'd never thought of his friend as volatile, but now he was contradicting himself with every step. Silence reigned for a few seconds before Zuko continued "You wanted to kill me, remember? Get on with it."

"We both know how equally matched we are with these swords," Jet said ruefully, looking at Zuko as if for approval. They had given up any pretense of a swordfight, and Jet sheathed his swords, Zuko following suit.

They were both standing too formally, several feet from each other. _What happened to you after they dragged you away in Ba Sing Se? _ _Where's your little posse? How long have you been planning this night? _All questions the newly kindled diplomatic side of Zuko knew he should ask, but didn't, knowing that there was only one question he really wanted the answer to.

_What did you really come here for? _

But Zuko didn't get a chance to ask before a muffled voice from a few hallways away broke through the silence. _"Sound the alarm!"_

"How many did you kill?" Zuko asked, sounding, to Jet's surprise, more annoyed than angry.

"Four," Jet said simply, walking toward the closest window. "I did think it would be more. And," he paused in his unlatching of the window, "I was sure you would be one of them."

Jet pushed open the window and decided from the growing commotion in the hall that it was time to make himself scarce. He knew he would be angry with himself later for having failed at his mission, but what had his mission truly been?

"Wait." Zuko placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder and Jet turned to face him. "I still don't understand why I wasn't."

"Because I realized that I never wanted to kill you. I just wanted to see you again." And with no point in pretending anymore, Jet gently placed his hand under Zuko's chin and guided him into a short but passionate kiss.

The second Jet finally broke contact, he didn't so much drop out the window as simply vanish, and when the guards burst through the door, Zuko was left with an unexplainable mess, blood on the wall, and the memory of Jet lingering on his lips.

**A/N: So, that's it. I'm a little nervous about this, because it's the first thing I've written even remotely resembling slash. Review/critique, please? Thanks for reading! **


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